Procrasti Nation

I follow (sorta randomly) a really solid vlogger by the name of Philip deFranco. He has long referred to his followers as the DeFranco Nation, a moniker which Stephen Colbert also uses on his brill fake punditry show, the Colbert Report. I think it fits, but as I sat down to type out this I realised that as a whole most of Western Society may in fact fit the moniker as a the ProcrastiNation.

I just went looking for a google image relating to procrastination for my SWG blog, and found this grand lil advice blog called Magical Words (well, they use all kinds of 733t symbols instead of the letters, but us higher evolved types tend to see letters where n00b2 have used numb3r2, right?)

Anywho, I read over some of this blogger's advice regarding procrastination, and some of it really tied into what I have been pondering and discussing with friends of late: that it's one thing to realise you have a personal issue, and another to actualise change. My sister's big issue is communication, one of mine is a lack of drive, but definitely procrastination plays a role too. That said, I have been working on mine, and as a result I feel I have made some solid progress as a recovering procrastinator.

/wave "Hi, my name is Poetrix and I put things off. It's been two days since I washed my dishes."

The problem, and the subject of the above-mentioned pondering/discussion is that acknowledging is one thing, but once you have acknowledged that you have a problem, you have to actively work to fix it! That's the step that seems to be forgotten in this weird cyclical culture of blame/absolution we have created.

One of the key things that us selfish middle-aged gits lose track of is that our children see us model the very behaviours that have held us back all these years: that is part of the legacy with which we are burdening them.

There will always be distractions, but if we know we have a tendency to allow ourselves to be distracted, it is up to us, each of us alone and individually to combat that tendency, in order to actually live up to a fraction of our potential, and in order to model a better way of living and being for the children around us.

Food for thought. (Let's not consider the whole obesity/health issue thing, there...)

Plans Change

I have had both my younger sons for the last week: it's been nice to share some with my middle boy, who is changing as each day passes. I wish my place were larger, with room enough to give him a space of his own, but I simply don't have that kind of a budget.

After a full week of both boys, and not getting the previous weekend childfree, I am more than ready for this next 10 days of being on my own. I had been looking forward to spending some time at my sister's hanging out and getting my laundry done, but it appears she forgot that plan, so I was packed and ready to go, and she didn't show. Without a phone, the only way to reliably reach me is via email, but that is pretty damned reliable, considering my house-bound status.

I had just celebrated with her roomie that I'd be seeing her tonight and then caught myself: just yesterday I was saying to Arkay that it was never to be counted on that my sister would recall our plans: our family is nothing if not reliably unreliable. It's one of those things. Communication skills in abundance, and no where near the drive to use them (kinda like our particular artistic temperament, in that lack of drive, actually.)

"Read my mind, dammit!" has always kinda been the unspoken attitude all of us have: my oldest sister has gone the farthest down the path of mature expectations as far as that goes. We learned it young and with no better examples: my mother remains one of the least punctual people on the planet. So JB's plans changed, or she forgot, or forgot to let me know that plans had changed.

In this case, it doesn't really have much impact, and JB knows that. She can "get away with it" because I have no choice but to forgive her for something I have all too often exhibited myself. In one sense it's just a continuance of a pattern that I wonder if I am the only one of my feminine family that notices, cares, or wishes to change.

And to be absolutely BitchWare honest: this particular time, I didn't really mind. After having a housefull of kids, guests, and family, without pause for a full three weeks, it's kinda nice to have a quiet evening at home, alone.

Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

So, some of this is going to come across as very egotistical, I'm sure, but I have to say it is only and ever honest assessment, not in any way self-gratifying aggrandisement.

I have been pondering attraction and the acting on attractions that I have had to deal with in the last few months, since I announced that I had split from my ex. It was an inadvertant announcement, based on the fact that I changed my status on facebook to Single, and thought it was private, but it turned out it wasn't, and all of a sudden the sharks started to circle.

Within a couple of days a friend, an acquaintance, and a TOTAL STRANGER had all let me know they would be happy to try and fill Scott's shoes. The thing is, I'm single and so very NOT LOOKING it's just not even possible to state. I am alone, happily, and since I have never felt the driving need to share my bed and my life with someone/anyone else, I could conceivably stay quite comfortably that way for the rest of my life. So why is it that all these people are crawling over themselves to step into the vacancy I haven't advertised?

Well, and here's where the ego comes in: as I go back over my life and various romances and relationships, I realise I am quite a charismatic person. Aside from a short period of solid hawtness as a teenager, I'm unphotogenic in the extreme, only marginally talented in too many areas, and not exactly the catch of the century as far as health, looks or bankroll goes. That said, I acknowledge that I do have a certain charm, sparkle, or whatever (my very own je ne c'est quoi!) that attracts certain people. And they can be harder to scrape off, however politely, than shit on a shoe.

I saw my mother cling to one man then another, I've seen my sister finally find happiness and passion with a fellow, and I've known every phase of love and desire that is out there. I don't want anything but friendship and companionship from any of my friends, but I am honest to go feeling hunted at times. And I look at myself and go, what? really? why? I'm 40, crippled for life, barely able to make ends meet much less get ahead... there really is better out there in every damned library in the country. Go! find someone ELSE!

In one significant case, I wanna smack the guy and say if you have to fall in love, fall in love with the woman you are sleeping with and leave me the hell out of it: she's my friend, arsehole! Thing is, he'd enjoy the smack, because he's that kind of a beaten puppy. Stockholm syndrome, anyone?

I wish the notsogood men, puppies and precocious predators would go wherever it is the good men have gone. I need to enjoy my comfie single bed by myself and without this weird pressure to let myself be bought and sold.